


The Fall

by non_tiembo_mala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Bottom Sam, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s13e11 Breakdown, Established Relationship, Light Spanking, M/M, Marking, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 21:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: Sam is struggling with everything they've been through lately, and he worries what it'll do to Dean, who has been having a rough go of it, too. He tries to hide it but Dean always finds him out.Basically moments of Sam Winchester laying about in bed are the perfect set up for Wincest, and who am I to resist?





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have not yet seen the episode! I know, I know... but I'm three behind and need to catch up. That said, I saw a gif floating around of Sam moping in bed on his tummy and this basically writes itself. I could not stop myself. 
> 
> That said, there's basically no plot whatsoever. Unrepentant brother porn contained within! 
> 
> Title from Imagine Dragon's song of the same name.
> 
> Many thanks to my wonderful friend Jen for the super speedy beta <3

There’s no way Sam will be able to sleep. The faces of the people they’ve lost are more present than usual tonight, the way they tend to be when the list gets longer. More often Dean is the one that struggles with this and it’s always been up to Sam to keep their faith, because what they do is worth it. But Sam can’t do that all the time. Some days, it’s too much even for him, his heart hurting so much and his mind so dark, illuminated only by the fading lights of lives extinguished much too soon.

He won’t let Dean see him like this. His big brother has been having a rough go since Jack came into their lives, and the last thing he needs is to have to put Sam back together, too. When they get back to the bunker, Sam can see Dean is tired and the sick plot of their latest hunt is wearing on him, so he doesn’t think he’ll have trouble putting some distance between them. As Dean walks towards his bedroom hallway, Sam watches the weary set of his shoulders and calls after him, saying he’s a bit wired, he’s going to finish up a few things he was in the middle of when Donna first called them. Dean lazily waves at him without looking, set on mission shower and sleep, so it seems Sam can breathe a shaky sigh of relief. Finally alone, his grief and despair wash over him with such force that he has to reach out a hand and steady himself on the nearest bookshelf. He listens past the sound of his own ragged breaths to hear a door close in the distance, then hastily makes his way to his room as quickly as his sorrow-filled body will allow.

The open bottle of whiskey on his nightstand and the four maroon crescent moons hidden in the palm of Sam’s left hand are the only tells that he’s just barely managing tonight. He barely feels the ache of them as he lies awake hugging his pillow, occasionally flexing his hand and giving it a squeeze just to be reminded of the pain, a weak attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts.

He doesn’t know how late it is, how long he’s lain awake thinking about the life they lead, rife with the ugliest things the world has to offer in addition to the loss of nearly everyone they’ve ever known or loved; that it’s what they were destined for, suffering so much loss, too twisted and sick for normal lives, that it’s what he deserves after all the evil he’s been party to, the evil he carries inside him, the evil they allow to persist with every failure.

He’s so submerged in the heavy undertow of his thoughts he doesn’t even hear Dean come into his room, startling when the bed dips under the gentle press of his brother’s knees. His throat gets dry and tight, he clenches his teeth and hugs his pillow all the more tightly without thinking, putting up walls to keep Dean from seeing him this way, even though the rational part of him knows it’s too late.

“Sammy,” Dean starts, his voice a low rumble, gruff but soft. The tone of it is gentle, confirming for Sam that Dean knows, and Sam can’t– he doesn’t know how to admit this to his brother who needs him so much, can’t let Dean down like this on top of everything else. He burrows his face into his pillow, hiding for lack of anything else to do, since Dean has him trapped. Dean leans in closer and Sam squeezes his eyes shut hard.

“Didn’t think I’d know you were hiding out in here again, did you?” Dean breathes into Sam’s ear, nosing his hair aside to reveal it so he can kiss the shell of it. He drops his hips to blanket Sam’s body with his own, his half-hard cock pressing against the crack of Sam’s ass even though Sam’s under the covers. He almost hates the way his body seems to respond to his brother without his permission, pressing back into the line of it instinctively.

“C’mon, Sam,” Dean continues, almost chastising but without any anger. “I know you, kiddo. I can see you sinking.”  
  
Sam aches for the way he can’t protect Dean from himself, so concerned that his own pain is too much for his brother to bear on top of his own.

“Dean, please,” Sam chokes out, turning his head so the plea isn’t lost completely in his pillow. He means for Dean to leave him be, let him keep the poison of his suffering to himself, but Dean rolls his hips when he answers, and Sam lets go of his pillow to make fists in the sheet under him instead.

“I know what you’re thinking ‘bout, baby,” Dean pauses, serious. “I know, I do. But don’t hide from me. Hide _with_ me.”  
  
Sam shudders through a strangled sob. Suddenly he’s small and just that kid Dean was always looking after, and he wants to fall apart in Dean’s open arms. He’s cracked open now, bleeding it all out, and Dean lets him without another word, just the occasional press of lips to the side of his face, grounding him with the quiet, comforting weight of his body.

Time passes though Sam is still lost as to how much, but his eyes dry and he feels almost pleasantly empty in their wake, certainly calm. He sighs and Dean shifts, kissing Sam’s ear again.

“It’ll be brighter in the morning, Sam,” Dean says just above a whisper, nuzzling him. “Let me help get you through the night, yeah?”

Sam almost laughs. Only his brother could be so genuinely helpful while also trying to get laid, unironically able to achieve both ends. Instead, Sam smiles into the dark and cants his hips to rub against his brother.

“Yeah, Dean,” Sam answers, turning his head, searching, and his brother finds him for a slightly awkward over the shoulder kiss. Dean licks his lips when he breaks away and Sam knows he’s tasting the salt of his tears, but the realization can’t linger long enough for Sam to be embarrassed because Dean is sitting back and pulling down Sam’s blankets.

Dean smoothes his hands up Sam’s back, pushing up his sleep shirt to reveal his skin, and Sam stretches under the touch and momentary freedom from the trap of his brother’s body. Dean trails his fingers back down, hooking them in the waist of Sam’s pajama pants then tugging them down under his ass.

“Mmm,” Dean hums approvingly, grabbing a generous handful of one cheek, then letting it go only to give it a quick, sharp slap.

Sam grunts for the surprise, but the sting radiates out from the shape of Dean’s hand and goes right to his cock, getting him hard, fast, just the way Dean obviously intended. The sound turns into a groan as he humps his hips against the mattress, the friction filling him up completely.

“‘Atta boy, Sammy,” Dean encourages as he shifts positions and Sam can hear the grin on his big brother’s face. It makes him feel suddenly sauna-hot, Dean’s voice and praise stoking the flames of a fire inside him like no one else can.

Then Dean’s hands are back, pulling his cheeks apart, and Sam shivers for the chill as Dean exposes his hole and makes him still. Now, in the moments before Dean leans in to press his lips to Sam’s secret skin, Sam can barely remember what brought him to hide out in his room in the first place. Then, Dean’s mouth is on him, first just a kiss, then his tongue wide and flat, dragged up and down Sam’s crease, and Sam stops thinking altogether.

Sam whines and pushes back against Dean’s face, which earns him another slap on the ass and a pleased, hungry growl from his brother, who starts to eat him out in earnest. He nips at the pucker of muscle, just a light scraping of teeth, then presses with the tip of his tongue, wiggling his way in. As it loosens and gives way for him, Sam sighs. It’s ragged, wrecked for how Dean knows exactly how to take him apart. By the time Sam can feel the wet drip of Dean’s spit on his balls, Dean is adding a finger alongside his tongue, and Sam white knuckles the sheet he’s clinging to, feeling it come untucked as he pulls on it.

“I know–” Dean husks out as he rushes it, adding a second finger, making Sam moan and arch his back, pushing into the burn of it. “I can be difficult–” he twists them hard and spreads them apart, lapping at the space he makes with his tongue. “But–” he shifts, sitting up on the bed, back on the heels of his feet with his fingers hooked in Sam’s ass, tugging as he moves. “I’ll always take care of you, baby boy.”

He punctuates his words by forcing in a third finger. Sam almost yelps but manages to catch the sound, biting hard into his lip as he squirms on Dean’s hand. It’s the perfect pleasure pain, spread open fast and rough with only Dean’s spit to ease the way, and Sam shudders, willing his body to relax into it. Dean keeps twisting and scissoring his fingers, pressing against the hot walls of Sam’s insides to get him ready, petting his prostate to make him shake and whimper. Sweat breaks out across Sam’s skin, beading up at his temples, clinging to his hair, and pooling in the small of his back.

“Fuck, Sam, look so pretty like this. Gotta be inside you right fuckin’ now. Hold on,” Dean removes his fingers as gently as his want will allow and hastily leans past Sam to get the lube in his nightstand.

Sam shifts on the bed fitfully, desperate for Dean now, especially for the horribly empty feeling without his brother’s thick fingers keeping him open. The spit dries quickly and the lube is a balm, if not also a little jarring for the cold, but they’re both rushing now. Sam starts to get this elbows and knees under him to push himself up but Dean puts a hand down hard on his hip and forces him back down.

“Nuh uh, little brother. On your belly like you were, that’s it, yeah,” Dean’s voice trails off, a little reverent as he takes in the sight of Sam doing as he’s asked, laid out on his bed with his legs still trapped by pants only pushed down to above his knees.

Dean strips out of his t-shirt and boxer briefs, tossing them aside onto the floor in the dark, and then gets a knee on either side of Sam’s, bracing himself with a hand on the mattress next to Sam’s head. Sam’s stomach flutters with the thrill, confined by both his clothes and his brother’s body, and as Dean lines up the blood-hot, slick head of his dick at Sam’s hole, Sam can’t stop himself from tilting his hips, pushing his cock into the mattress below him and his ass up to coax his brother inside.

Dean doesn’t wait, nor does he go slow, sliding into Sam in one smooth motion.

“ _Fuck_ ,” they both grunt as he bottoms out, and then Dean is dropping all the way down, once again a blanket on Sam’s back from the shoulders down. Sam is pressed heavily into the mattress, turning his head so he can breathe, gasping at the way his brother’s cock fills him, and Dean just lays there, letting him adjust.

“Just like this, Sammy,” Dean huffs into Sam’s ear as he starts to move, his breath hot. He braces himself on his elbows, one on either side of Sam’s head, to give himself just enough leverage as he eases into a rhythm, rocking their hips together. Dean is buried inside him, moving in a shallow back and forth, and Sam moans as the movement rubs his own aching cock against the dampening bed.

He’s too hot and it should be claustrophobic but instead it’s a welcome sensory overload – everything is suffocating but it’s all Dean. _Dean Dean Dean_. The air he breathes is warm and thick with the smell of sweat and big brother, and it’s everything Sam needs right now. Dean pants harshly with the quick, short snap and roll of his hips, carving a little more deeply into Sam with each thrust, and their bodies are slick and stuck together everywhere they touch. Sam is so close, filled and surrounded by his brother, and he can hear when Dean starts to suck in each breath a little harder, knows he’s getting close, too.

“Dean, please,” Sam begs, because he knows Dean likes to hear it and because he needs just that little something more. Dean growls and drops his mouth to Sam’s shoulder, biting down on the meaty muscle.

Sam gasps and chokes on Dean’s name as he comes, the wet spot under him growing significantly, his hips stuttering while Dean doesn’t let up. As he relaxes under his brother, Dean lets go of his shoulder, no doubt leaving a mark behind that Sam is already looking forward to seeing in the morning, not as readily visible or accessible as the self-inflicted cuts in his palm but better because it’s Dean’s – he’s Dean’s – and that’s what really anchors him.

“So good, Sam, fuck–” Dean’s words disappear then, and instead he groans long and low in Sam’s ear while he pumps his hips, filling Sam with come. Sam sighs, swears he can feel it inside him, making him Dean’s all the more, taking up room so Sam has less space for anything else.

Dean collapses onto Sam completely as his orgasm subsides and Sam grunts at the sudden, increased weight of him but doesn’t move to shove him off, though he’s wet and sticky everywhere, the sheet soaked with come and sweat. Dean doesn’t crush him for too long, rolling off him slowly, their skin peeling apart and his softening cock slipping free from Sam’s body. Sam whines a little at the loss and Dean gives him a sympathetic wince as he lays down beside him. He brushes some of Sam’s hair back off his face and tucks it behind his ear, and they just lay that way, looking at each other in the dark.

“I know it still hurts, Sam. But we’ll be okay. We gotta be. People need us. And when you need me to, I can be okay enough for the both of us,” Dean holds Sam’s gaze as he speaks, that familiar rumble Sam swears he feels down in his very bones, the sound and the words themselves serving to make Sam feel better than he did. He wants to say thank you but the words are hard, his throat tight again because he didn’t think Dean had this in him right now, didn’t think they could survive it if they both fell apart, but he should’ve known. His big brother could never let him down. 

So, instead, Sam nods, and lets Dean kiss him.

“Now, come on. Your bed sucks. It’s also super gross, and so are we. Shower and sleep, Sammy. Let’s move.” Dean hauls himself up and swats Sam on the ass as he stands. He’s not wrong. Dean stands in Sam’s doorway waiting for him to sit up and kick off his pants the rest of the way, ditching his shirt, too. As Sam moves to join him, Dean gives him a soft, teasing smile, and Sam lets himself hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Comments and kudos are love!


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